


Friendly Warnings

by katiemariie



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Crushes, F/M, Friendship, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 21:05:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1124372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katiemariie/pseuds/katiemariie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Garak and Nog have (very different) concerns about Ziyal and Jake dating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friendly Warnings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gladdecease](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gladdecease/gifts).



Jake leans against the railing, gazing contentedly, dreamily down at the Promenade, crafting a story in his head: Ziyal gingerly bites into the jumja stick—this is her first time having one and the taste is—no, no, this is her first time having one since she was sent away from Bajor as a girl. A bittersweet smile. The taste is childhood, days in the sun with her mother, her only playmate—none of the Bajoran children would play with a half-Cardassian (Who knew whose bed her mother warmed? What secrets she might share with the Occupiers?). Even now, Ziyal is isolated from those her own age. Garak and Kira are kind, but—

“This is an incredibly bad idea,” Nog says, stepping beside Jake.

“What is?” Jake asks.

“This!” Nog gestures between Jake and Ziyal on the lower level.

Jake slaps Nog's hand down, feeling blood rush to his cheeks. “Don't point!”

Nog crosses his arms over his chest: the perfect picture of authority in perhaps the smallest cadet's uniform Starfleet has ever made. “So, you do like her.”

“Yes. No!” Jake shrugs. “I mean, what's not to like?”

“She's Dukat's daughter.”

“So? People can't help who they're born to.”

“I'm not blaming her, but you're Human, you know what that means.”

“No, I don't. And what does me being Human have anything to do with—”

Nog sighs. “Two young people from feuding families start a relationship—it's bound to end in disaster.”

“That's ridiculous.”

“It's your culture, not mine.”

“Just because something happens in a few stories doesn't mean it's going to happen to me and Ziyal. And you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because I don't like her.”

“Oh.” Nog leans his back against the railing. “So you won't mind if I ask her out then?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Good.” Nog claps Jake on the shoulder and takes off toward the stairs.

“Wait. _Now?_ ”

“No time like the present,” Nog calls over his shoulder.

–

Ziyal feels Garak's grip on her elbow before she sees the man himself. Before she can speak, he's guiding her away from the jumja stick cart, saying quietly with that strange smile, “It appears despite my best efforts as tutor, your skills of covert observation still leave much to be desired.”

Ziyal racks her brain for whatever it is he's referencing. This is the problem with studying dressmaking and subterfuge under Garak; one never knows when one is being tested, or how one is being tested, or even if doing well on the test is the desired outcome.

“Rest assured, my dear, _he_ didn't see you looking, but _I_ did. And I doubt I'm the only one.”

“What do you me—”

“Feigning ignorance. That's good. It works for a girl your age, provided one perfects the ratio of denial to exposed cleavage. As you may have noticed—” Garak runs his free hand along his collar, straightening his neck. “—any operative worth his salt has multiple versions of a single outfit with several different neckline options. One should have an outfit for every occasion.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” Ziyal says.

“Good. Now as for the young Mr. Sisko—”

“Jake?”

“Oh. Of course, you'd be on first name terms. I forget how fast these things can move when one is so young. All the more important I tell you.” Garak's grip on Ziyal's elbow tightens to the point where it is almost painful. (Garak, she assumes, is experienced in walking that fine line.) “You may think you were being discreet, only looking at him once he looked away, and indeed, I commend you for evading Jake's detection. He is completely oblivious about your feelings for him. But anyone on the Promenade could have seen you. _I_ saw you. And if a man like me could see you, well...” He takes a deep breath. “Love isn't a game, my dear, no matter how it may seem to you now. He is your greatest weakness. And you are the biggest threat to his life.”

“I know that; my mother and I were kept in hiding for years to protect my father,” Ziyal says. “But Jake and I aren't together. We've hardly ever spoken.”

“That doesn't matter. Simply feeling the way you do could—”

“Ziyal!” Jake's voice cuts across the Promenade.

Ziyal turns and sees him running toward her, Nog following shortly behind, smirking. “Jake?”

He skids to a stop a few paces in front of her. “Hey, do you wanna get a raktajino some time?”

“Sure.”

“Great. Tomorrow? Fourteen-hundred? Quark's?”

“Sounds good.”

“See ya then.” Jake waves and heads back over to Nog, who shouts something like, “I knew you'd fall for that.”

Garak raises an eye ridge.

Ziyal shrugs. “We're in danger whether we're together or not. Why not enjoy each other?”

“Enjoying each other comes with its own risks, the least of which I'm sure Dr. Bashir has several informative pamphlets about.”

“Garak! We're just getting raktajino!”

Garak bows his head. “Of course.” He smiles up at her and tucks a stray hair behind her ear. “Be mindful, my dear. Intimacy—of any kind—is fraught with danger.”

The irony is not lost on either of them—a credit to Garak's tutoring.


End file.
